


Snow & Scarves

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: Prompt: “PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF”





	Snow & Scarves

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart,” Dean says, shaking your shoulder.

“What?” You mumble, trying to pull the blanket over your head. “What time is it?”

“Sun’s up.”

You groan. “That’s too early. Is there a hunt? I thought Sam had the flu.”

“Something like that. And he does. It’s just you and me.”

You peel back the blanket to see him sitting there on the edge of your bed, already dressed. He’s got a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, and when he sees you looking, he offers it to you.

“Where are we going?”

He grins. “Running an errand. It’s important, or I would have let you sleep.” He stands, squeezing your knee as he goes. “Dress warm.”

You take a sip of the coffee and smile to yourself when it’s got just the right amount of cream and sugar. “Warm. Sounds suspicious.”

“Ten minutes, or I’m dragging you out of here myself.” He says mock sternly, pointing at you.

You roll your eyes, gulping down some coffee before pulling yourself out of bed. Dress warm. You pull on a pair of fleece leggings and a long sleeve shirt, layering a flannel shirt and puffy vest over that. A knit hat, scarf, and mittens should do it, and you’re meeting Dean by the staircase before his ten minute time limit is up.

“Let’s go,” he says, grinning. He’s got an axe in one hand and a blanket in the other, and you look at him warily as you follow him outside, and into the woods.

“Should I be worried you’re bringing me out here to axe murder me?” You ask, carefully picking your way through a snow drift a few feet behind Dean.

“Very funny,” he says dryly. “We’re almost there.”

“Why couldn’t you wait and get Sam to do this with you?”

“Because he’s a huge baby when he has a cold. I wouldn’t be able to get him to leave his bed let alone the bunker. Now quit complaining, we’re almost there.”

You’ve never seen him like this and you’re trying _really_ hard not to get distracted by how adorable it is.

“Here,” he says, holding his hand out for you as he clambers up on a log, pulling you up next to him.

All you can see is snow. It’s pristine - no one’s been out here, ever. The evergreens are perfect looking, like something out of a storybook. You had no idea this clearing was this close to the bunker. You picture it in summer time too - the quiet would make it the perfect spot to get away when things get hard.

“You’re going to go down there with me and pick out a Christmas tree.” He says, eyes sparkling as he turns to look at you. “No pressure, but we have to get the perfect one.”

“You’re crazy. The snow is three feet deep!” You laugh.

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not that deep.” He only sinks in a little when he steps back down to the ground, and again, he holds out his hand for you to take.

Dean is not usually this tactile with you, and it sets warmth curling in your stomach as you take his offered hand and jump down, jostling him a bit in the process. He grins at you, knocking his shoulder against yours.

You spend a few minutes arguing about the merits of this tree versus that tree, and finally agree on one that seems like it’ll fit nicely in the library.

“No offense, but I never took you for a Christmas guy before.” You tell him as he inspects the branches and tries to figure out how he’s going to cut the tree down.

“Never really was, to be honest.” He says, lowering himself on his side so he can start sawing. “But I’m not going to be the reason you’re moping around all month.”

You’re a little stunned. “You’re– for me? Dean–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it. “It’s done. It’s your first winter at the bunker. We’re not going to let you be miserable.”

You’ve only just moved in to the bunker with the Winchesters a few months ago. You’ve been around hunters for as long as you can remember, but after a hunt went wrong and ended up with your sister badly hurt, your family practically kicked you out, your parents having gotten out of the life long ago and wanting you to do the same.

A friend of a friend introduced you to Sam and Dean, and nothing had been the same since, in a good way. You’ve never felt like you belonged anywhere, but something in you tells you you’ve belonged here, with the two of them, this whole time.

You feel like you’re going to start crying, and besides being embarrassing, you don’t want to make this a big deal. Dean’s not a sentimental guy, and you’re supposed to be a season hunter. Certified badass. You can’t cry about a _Christmas tree_.

Dean gets the tree cut down with only a bit of grumbling and then the two of you start the walk back to the bunker. Getting it through the doors and down the staircase takes a bit of maneuvering but luckily Dean’s in a good mood, and you help him get the tree upright in the library.

“There,” he says, stepping back to take a look at it. “Gotta let it settle for a bit and then tomorrow you can decorate it however you want.”

“Will you help me?” You ask, giving him your best doe eyes.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You sure you don’t want to wait until Sam’s feeling better? He’s taller.”

Did he get closer, or are you imagining it? He smells like pine needles and cold winter air.

“You’ll do.” You tell him, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Hmm,” he hums, stepping closer. His hands come up to tug at the ends of the scarf around your neck. “I’m looking forward to it.”

You stare at each other, electricity crackling in the air between you, before he tugs a little harder on your scarf, pulling you closer to him. You lean up at the same time he bends down, and you meet in the middle for a kiss that has you sighing into his mouth.

“Thank you,” you whisper when he pulls back, and he chuckles.

“Never had anyone react that way to a kiss before.”

“You know what I mean.” You gesture to the tree. “For today. For… all of it.”

He kisses you again, with a little more heat this time. “Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart. I mean it. I want you sticking around for awhile.” His eyes are absolutely sparkling as he gazes down at you.

“I want that, too.”

Later that night you fall asleep in Dean’s arms in the library by the dying light of the fireplace, in awe about how a few months ago you never thought you’d feel at home anywhere, ever. You’ve never felt more content than you do right now, with him.


End file.
